Where The Hell Were You?
by Morningstar-Winchester
Summary: Sammy wasn't the only one with questions for Chuck. Unfortunately, though, Dean didn't plan on being as friendly. Set in season 11. Spoilers.


Dean grumbled to himself as he entered the research room, swinging a beer bottle back and forth as he walked. He stopped short, however, and let out an annoyed sigh when he spotted Chuck sitting at the table. The hunter simply turned and started to head right back out, but flinched in surprise when that familiar, obnoxious voice spoke up from behind him.

"Where you going?"

See, Dean had liked Chuck before… Kind of. Back when he was just a prophet. The writer of the Supernatural books. Although Dean hadn't exactly liked the books, but hey, whatever. But now Chuck was "God", and oh, oh, _oh_ , Dean was pissed. Because where had Chuck been all this time? Sitting around writing? Writing when the world was in danger?

Dean honestly thought about just ignoring him, but after a second, he lifted his head and turned it slightly to look over his shoulder. Chuck didn't look up from the laptop he had in front of him and by the looks of things, he didn't plan to any time soon. The Winchester sighed and turned back, walking over. He pulled out a chair a good distance away and sat down, pretty much slamming the beer down onto the table in front of him. He didn't know what was about to go down, but it felt like a huge confrontation was about to take place.

Chuck seemed to realize that, because he reached out and shut the laptop before folding his hands together in front of him and looking up at Dean in complete silence.

Dean was okay with how quiet it was. It gave him time to think about what to say to the celestial being in front of him. Now, Dean wasn't afraid of many things. Planes, yes, for good reason, spiders, losing Sam, and Death.

But, Death was gone. No planes to spiders in sight. Sam was fine.

Dean had absolutely no reason to be afraid right then.

"Where the hell were you?" Finally the hunter spoke up, the accusatory tone in his voice lacing each word like venom as he spoke. But, yet, Chuck didn't flinch. He just let out a deep yet silent sigh and sat back, rubbing two fingers over his forehead and looking at Dean silently, those big blue eyes of his trying to say something, to explain...

Dean didn't understand.

But the way Chuck was looking at him, like Dean was ignorant, like Chuck knew something that the hunter didn't, it made the hunter want to pick up the bottle and throw it at him. But, that would be a waste of good beer.

"Dean," Chuck finally spoke up, and his voice held a faint trace of helplessness, like explaining this to the hunter would do no good. "We've been over this. I can't be there every time something goes wrong."

Dean gritted his teeth. Some part of him screamed that he understood, but there was a louder part of him that yelled he didn't. That Chuck should've stepped in.

"Do you realize how many times the world almost ended? How many times me and Sam have had to stop it? Because you were, what, too busy?" Dean demanded, slamming his hand down onto the table and glaring at Chuck with a look that would've off'ed him, if looks could kill.

"I realize." Chuck replied, his voice even, patient, as if he were talking to a six-year-old.

Ohh, Dean was seriously considering throwing the beer bottle at his head.

"But," Chuck held up a hand to silence Dean when the hunter opened his mouth. Dean snapped his jaws shut, furious, and Chuck put his hand down. "But, if I stepped in every time something went wrong, where would it end? Where would I draw the line?"

"You wouldn't." Dean growled, fingers tapping on the table before they curled up, balling his hand into a fist. The other stayed firmly clasped around the bottle, grip so tight his knuckles were white. "You wouldn't draw the line, because obviously, earth needs you."

"Earth doesn't need me." Chuck replied smoothly, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Obviously it does! You-"

"Obviously it doesn't." Chuck's voice raised just the slightest bit, cutting Dean off, which made Dean even more pissed. "It's still spinning, isn't it?"

"Because of us." Dean spat scathingly. "Because me and Sam clean up every mess, but you can't bother to. Everything, everything could be fixed if you'd just step in and-"

"Dean, why do you think I made monsters in the first place?"

That caught Dean off guard. "What?"

"Why do you think I made monsters?" Chuck leaned forward across the table, and Dean instinctively leaned back, glaring. Chuck sighed and continued; "Why do you think bad things happen?"

"Because you're a selfish bastard who sits back eating popcorn while we all suffer?" Dean guessed, narrowing his eyes.

Chuck's lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, but it didn't go past that. "I don't get entertainment from your pain, Dean."

"Really? I'm shocked." Dean grumbled, turning his glare to the table. The tension, the fury, was rolling off of him in waves, yet Chuck remained so calm, so frustratingly calm.

"But without feeling pain, you wouldn't know when you're feeling pleasure." Chuck continued, watching Dean's eyes flicker up briefly. "And without feeling sadness, you wouldn't know when you're feeling joy."

"Well that's all great." Dean growled, narrowing his eyes. "But it doesn't explain why you just abandoned us like that."

"I didn't abandon anybody, Dean." Chuck murmured, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at the hunter. "If I did I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Dean didn't know what else to say. He was still furious, but it was slowly melting into despair. "You should've been there." He finally managed, his voice staying steady, but the angry mask broke, the helplessness shining through his narrowed green eyes. "You should've done something. Earth needed you and you weren't there. You weren't there, where the hell were you?"

"I was here." Chuck replied, looking up at him. "Dean, I didn't step in during the apocalypse. I didn't step in the several times the world almost ended. I didn't step in because you and your brother _did_."

"But we shouldn't have to!"

Dean was shocked at his own outburst, but he didn't give it much thought. It wasn't fair, how him and Sam had to take care of everything. Had to save the world, when Chuck was literally right there the whole time. When he could've done something.

Chuck narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "So you're telling me, saving all those people, saving the world, none of that was worth it? Everything you've done? The lives you've saved? None of it?"

Dean felt like knives had lodged into his throat. His mouth opened, but when he couldn't seem to summon any words, it just snapped shut again. He didn't know what to say.

Sure, he and Sam had saved the world, saved a couple… Hundred… Lives, but was it fair? Was it fair that they'd had to?

"But," Dean finally spoke up, struggling to find the words. "But you could have. You could have saved the world, you could have… You should have."

Chuck took a deep breath and looked away, looking around the room. And Dean thought he'd won that debate until Chuck spoke again;

"But that wouldn't have been the right thing to do."

Dean was stunned by that. Not the right thing to do? Stepping in to help? To save the world? To save lives? Not the right thing to do?

Chuck seemed to feel everything shift. The anger and frustration radiating from the hunter turned into alarm and confusion, and Chuck immediately turned back to Dean, quick to fix his mistake. Reword that sentence.

"Me stepping in, me returning over and over again to fix things wouldn't have been the right thing to do." And Chuck stopped. He paused and he thought. "When Sam got picked on in school, did you try to fight every battle for him?"

Dean blinked. Chuck was catching him off guard too many times now. "Wh… Uh.. No." But he didn't understand, what did that have to do with…?

"You taught him how to stand up for himself, fend of the bullies on his own, right?"

"What does this have to do with.."

"I can't fight every battle for the world, Dean," Chuck cut the Winchester off, but Dean was too confused to actually be mad about it. "Otherwise nobody'll ever learn to fight back."

Dean stared at him, perplexed and unable to speak. After a minute or so, Chuck picked up the laptop and stood, walking around the table. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder as he passed, the touch lingering for no more than a second. And then Chuck had left the room.

Dean turned his head to stare after him, then furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, glancing around the room. A part of him was saying that that made sense, but another part of him…. Wasn't so sure.

Dean shook his head with a sigh and picked up the beer, lifting the bottle to his lips. He was ready to take a sip, but that's when Sam walked in with a handful of books, and Dean froze.

"Oh, hey." Sam dropped all the books on the table, and Dean jerked back just in time, pushing one rather large one away and giving his brother a quizzical look. Sam continued, "Glad you're in here. Ready to do some research? Chuck said he'd help me, but," The younger Winchester paused and glanced around. "Well, I guess he changed his mind." He scoffed, then smiled at his brother. "Good thing you're here, huh?"

Dean frowned and looked down at the pile of books before groaning, sitting back and shutting his eyes. "Ah, that son of a bitch.."


End file.
